


Holy Biceps, Batman

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Gratuitous Batman reference, Gratuitous Smut, Pie, Shameless Smut, unsanitary naked pie-eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 07:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12103551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock





	Holy Biceps, Batman

“Hey, whatcha doin?” Dean asked sleepily, shuffling into the kitchen. 

“I had a nightmare. Couldn’t get back to sleep,” you admitted. 

His eyes went wide when he saw what you’d been working on. “Is that what I think it is?” 

“Your favorite, right? Sam told me. I figured I owe you something for rescuing me, and putting me up tonight, and all that, and then...well, I was going to do this in the morning, but it was a really crappy nightmare.” You trimmed the last piece of latticed crust and brushed flour off your hands nervously. “How does it look?” 

Dean looked from you to the pie and back with his eyebrows raised and his mouth slightly open. His hair was sticking up in the back and he had pillow creases on one cheek, but it occurred to you (not for the first time since he’d showed up to save your ass) that he had the greenest eyes you’d ever seen on a real person. 

“Marry me?” he asked earnestly. 

You grinned. “Well, try it first, it’s been awhile since I baked anything.” You slipped the pie in the oven and set the timer. When you turned back around, Dean was pulling a large bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. 

“I have the best nightmare remedy,” he said. He poured two shot glasses full and held one up in a toast. 

You sat down across the table and picked up the other glass. “To not being dead. Thanks for that.” 

“To pie,” Dean said. When he smiled at you, his eyes crinkled at the corners. 

You downed your shot. The back of your throat burned, and you couldn’t help but grimace. Dean laughed and held out the bottle, and you poured another. 

“Second one goes down easier, right?” you asked dubiously. He tossed his back like it was water and gave you a wide grin. 

By the time the pie was done, you were thoroughly tipsy and your little crush on Dean had spiraled wildly out of control. It had solidified somewhere around the point that he sang a loud, enthusiastic version of Ramble On, using the bottle as a mic. As you opened the oven, he licked his lips, and that definitely didn’t help things. 

“Nuh-uh,” you said, and smacked his hand out of the way. “That is literally bubbling, it will melt your face.” 

“I like it hot, sweetheart.” He gave you an over-the-top wink that made you giggle. 

“You’re hot,” you said, and immediately slapped a hand over your mouth. “Shit. I did not mean to say that out loud. Fuck whiskey.” 

He smiled, this cocky smirk that made you want to bite his lower lip...so you did. It was exactly as soft and pillowy as it looked. 

His hands drifted up to your shoulders and pulled you closer. You leaned into the kiss, pressing yourself against him, feeling the hard muscles of his chest under his thin t-shirt. He pushed you back against the countertop. You ran your hands up his arms, then through his hair, pulling him closer and nipping gently at his lower lip again. His cock was pressing against your hip through his sweatpants. You rocked forward against his leg, and the kiss deepened into something dirty and hot. 

Dean trailed his lips down your neck, sucking roughly at the delicate skin. You let your head fall back and sighed happily. Between the whiskey buzz and his mouth, it felt like liquid heat was running through your entire body, making everything go soft and hazy. His teeth nipped into your collarbone sharply and you gasped, and all that heat was suddenly concentrated in your pussy. You tugged greedily at the back of his shirt and he pulled it off in one smooth motion, then did the same to yours. 

“Holy biceps, Batman,” you blurted out. He laughed, a full-on belly laugh that made his abs do this magical ripply thing, and he was fucking gorgeous, all the way down to the V where a line of muscles led down into his sweatpants. Impulsively, you dropped to your knees and pulled the sweatpants down. His cock was thick, too thick to swallow all the way down, but that didn’t stop you from trying; you licked your lips and slid them over his shaft until you could feel him against the back of your throat. He groaned, a low rough sound that went straight to your clit, and his hands tangled in your hair. 

You bobbed your head, loving the velvety feel of his cock gliding over your lips, the slightly salty taste of him, the smell of motor oil and whiskey and something else that was uniquely Dean. When you sucked, hollowing your cheeks around him, his hands involuntarily tightened, giving a sharp little tug at your hair. You moaned around him, and he did it again, pulling just enough to send a perfect little spark of pain humming through your skin. He was rocking his hips up into your mouth, breathing heavily, and when you cupped a hand around his balls he gasped out your name. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you trying to kill me?” he growled. You let his cock fall from your lips with a wet pop. 

“Please don’t die before you fuck me,” you said breathlessly, standing back up. Dean’s eyes went dark at that. He practically ripped at your pajamas and panties, trying to get them down. 

You spun around, leaning over the counter and spreading your legs. Almost immediately, Dean’s hands were on your ass, kneading and squeezing. He didn’t waste any time, just lined up and thrust into you, one long fluid motion, and the stretch and burn of his thick cock filling you up made you whimper. You barely had time to adjust before he was slamming back into you, his hands gripping around your hips to pull you forcefully back against him. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he panted. He slowed his thrusts for a moment. You looked back over your shoulder. His eyes were dark and unfocused, cast downward, watching his cock slide in and out of you, heavy and slick. He was biting into his swollen lower lip. 

“Dean,” you gasped. “Harder.” His eyes met yours and he smiled, a slow confident smile that made you wonder what you’d gotten yourself into. His hand trailed around to your ass and he dragged his fingernails lightly over the soft skin. 

“Harder?” he asked, low and sultry. You nodded, still watching him over your shoulder, and arched your back, trying to rock back against him, but one of his hands was still wrapped around your hip, holding you steady, so that you couldn’t do anything but wait. He ran his fingernails lightly over the curve of your ass again, grinding forward into you at the same time. The sensation sent a wave of pleasure through your body. He pulled all the way out and you whined. Then his palm came down on your ass sharply, and you let out a wordless cry, overwhelmed by the throbbing ache between your legs. 

“More,” you whispered. The next one was harder. It left your skin hot and stinging. On the third, he thrust back into you just as his hand made contact, and you were lost, sobbing out his name, hands scrabbling for purchase against the cool smooth countertop as he fucked you relentlessly. He was making the hottest noises you’d ever heard, animalistic and raw, a perfectly obscene symphony with the slap of his skin against yours. It was all you could do to keep your legs from buckling as the tension inside you built. Then Dean snaked a hand around to rub your clit, and your entire body shuddered as you came, a desperate wordless cry on your lips. He let out a strangled moan at the way you clenched around him. All it took was three more long thrusts, each one sending a fresh wave of pleasure ripping through you, and he came, shouting your name. 

“Well, shit,” Dean said breathlessly. 

“Mmmmm,” you agreed. Your head was spinning. 

“Well, I definitely worked up an appetite,” he said. He pulled out and swiped a kitchen towel to wipe you both up with. 

“Pie,” you mumbled. Dean grabbed two forks and handed you one. 

“Don’t you dare put your clothes back on,” he said, grinning at you wolfishly. He grabbed the entire pie and sat cross-legged on the floor. You sank down next to him, too blissed-out to think straight. His face lit up when he took the first bite. 

“Good?” you asked. 

“Kinky, makes Batman references during foreplay, bakes great pie.” He could barely get out the words around a mouth full of cherry filling. “I stand by my proposal.” 

You laughed and poked him with your fork. Marriage might have to wait, but you wouldn’t mind sticking around for a little while. 


End file.
